


Because I want to be your tomorrow, I lived through today

by Havokftw



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Break Up, Dating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Light Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: It's not until he’s back at his own apartment that afternoon, that it occurs to Jihoon that he'd gone to Seungcheol. He'd been dumped, and rather than call anyone else, or sulk with anyone else, he'd gone to him.He doesn’t know why.





	Because I want to be your tomorrow, I lived through today

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY FIRST DAY OF JICHEOL WEEK.  
> Day 1: SVT DISCOGRAPHY.  
> I really struggled to come up with ides for this prompt cause it felt, initially, like it had to be a canon fic. And I suck at that.  
> But I tried my best.  
> The inspiration came from 'Thanks' and specifically the lyrics titled above, although the whole song felt like a good fit for the theme. I dunno. My interpretation anyway.

"Jihoon," Seungcheol says, opening his door with a look of mild surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"I got dumped," Jihoon tells him. "I brought boxed wine and burritos. Can we get drunk and watch shit movies or something?"

"A box of wine _and_ burritos," Seungcheol laughs, stepping aside to let him in. "You can take the guy out of college--"

"Oh, shut your face." Jihoon says, smiling a little despite himself. "Sorry to show up like this, I just—the idea of going back to my apartment was pretty bleak, you know?"

"Yeah, _I know_. We’ve all been there." Seungcheol says, cocking his head to the side, inviting Jihoon to sit.

"Well, next time you’re feeling the same, you can come over to mine," Jihoon tells him, crashing down onto his couch. "We can be single and miserable together or something."

"Gee, thanks. You make it sound  _so_  appealing," Seungcheol says, but he's laughing.

Jihoon tosses him a burrito and he flicks the television on, going to grab glasses from the kitchen. He comes back with chipped mugs, making excuses about the dishwasher, but Jihoon doesn't even bat an eyelash; he just fills them both nearly to the top and passes one over to him. Tomorrow's hangover will be well earned.

Seungcheol nudges him with an elbow, deliberately interrupting Jihoon's first sip.

If it weren't for his cat-like reflexes Jihoon would almost certainly be wearing wine down the front of his shirt. As it is he only sloshes a little over the side to splash on his jeans.

 _"Asshole,"_ Jihoon mutters, but he can't summon any heat into the word.

Seungcheol wears an expression of smug amusement as he drinks his own wine, watching Jihoon with a smirk poorly hidden behind the chipped mug.

They drink in companionable silence. The wine is awful and it's really, really cheap, which pleases him. Seungcheol doesn't ask stupid questions. Jihoon doesn't try to make small talk. Eventually Seungcheol fishes for the TV remote and turns the volume on.  _Die Hard’s_ a little too incoherent without sound, though even with it Jihoon isn't really watching.

He's busy counting the rhythm of his own heartbeat. He's busy listening to Seungcheol breathe, lazy and comfortable beside him. He's busy  _not_  thinking about his jerk-off ex.

"I knew it wouldn’t work,” Jihoon's voice sounds rough as sandpaper when he speaks again, “Or, I should have anyway. Should’ve known never to date musicians, they’re so self-absorbed, and full of shit.” He complains with a sigh.

“ _All_ of them?” Seungcheol says, eyebrows shooting up, mouth going infuriatingly amused. “Does that include yourself then?”

Jihoon levels him a sour look, “ _Cheol_ , don’t fuck with me tonight. I’m not above kicking you out of your own apartment.”

Seungcheol grins, kicking his feet up onto the table. "Sorry. Let me try again. Dongho was a jerk and didn’t deserve you. Fuck that guy. Not _literally_ , but— _you know what I mean.”_

"Yeah, fuck him." Jihoon nods agreeably, following Seungcheol’s example and putting his feet up.

“Is this one of those moments where I’m supposed to break out the Ben and Jerry’s?” Seungcheol asks, maintaining a carefully concerned expression.

Jihoon snorts, tapping Seungcheol in the upper arm with his fist. “I’m not a _girl_. I’m not _writhing_ in agony or heartbroken over it or anything. It just— _"_

" _Sucks_." Seungcheol offers, taking a sip of his own wine.

" _Yeah_ ," Jihoon sighs.

"Sorry things didn't play out like you hoped," Seungcheol says, and Jihoon hears a dozen unspoken sentiments behind the words.  _Sorry about Dongho. Sorry you feel like shit. Sorry you're stuck with me tonight._

Jihoon rests his forehead in his hands, pressing into his temples with his thumbs. “I thought he was going to ask me to move in with him or something. Can you believe that? I’m such an _idiot_.”

Seungcheol hooks a hand around the back of Jihoon's neck and squeezes, right at the sweet spot at the base of his neck, and rubs his thumb in distracting little circles just behind Jihoon's ear. 

"You want to tell me what happened?" Seungcheol asks.

His eyes are sharp despite the amount of wine he's helped Jihoon drink, but there's sympathy in them. Not pity—Seungcheol's too good a friend to offer uninvited pity—but quiet support that warms Jihoon's chest. Even this simple, honest sympathy would be hard to swallow coming from anyone else, but Seungcheol is a whole different story.

"He said I was— _cold_. Distant. The word _un-cuddle-able_ was thrown around, like what the fuck does that even _mean_? He acts like I’m emotionally stunted and it’s not true. I like hugs _just_ as much as the next guy.” Jihoon laughs without humour and puts a hand to his eyes, fighting back an unbidden and horrifying wave of self-pity.

It’s ten o’clock. He should be asleep right now, next to his boyfriend. Instead, he’s half way across town, sipping cheap wine while Seungcheol touches his neck with warm gentle fingers.

It’s not as difficult a trade as it should be.

He scrubs his palms over his face, swallowing hard against the urge to just break down in the soft-lit sanctuary of Seungcheol’s studio. 

“I like to be _hugged_ , just maybe not all the time.” he amends, a little more steadily. He glances down at the half-finished mug in his hand, then sets it down on the coffee table, suddenly not thirsty. “I guess he wanted…I don't know. Grand gestures? He said he couldn't be with someone who wasn't going to ‘give back’."

Jihoon breathes a surprised sound when Seungcheol hugs him without warning, but recovers quickly to wrap his own arms tight around Seungcheol in return. Seungcheol must have set his drink down when Jihoon wasn't looking, because there is no awkward juggling as his grip tightens around Jihoon's shoulders, crushing him close with reassuring warmth.

"He’s a fucking idiot, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend and I want you to feel better." Seungcheol murmurs into his hair, hand stroking Jihoon’s back in soothing circles.

"He clearly doesn’t know you if _that’s_ his assessment. Granted, you’re not the _most_ demonstrative in terms of affection but that doesn’t make you cold or emotionally stunted. You’re just _selective_ with who you let in and that’s _okay_. That’s better than being disingenuous with your affection. What you see is what you get with you, I’ve always liked that about you Jihoonie. And I for one think you’re very cuddle-able,” Seungcheol comments, releasing Jihoon a little to look at him warmly.

“Even when you’re making that face of extreme constipation like you’re doing right now.”

"Shut up," Jihoon laughs, blinking to clear his vision, startled out of the swoop of self-pity. He’s spent his whole life refusing to need anyone, but Seungcheol is different. Seungcheol’s always known what to say to make him feel better.

Jihoon’s sure he should say something grateful back, but doesn’t quite know _what_. He's saved by the sensation of something small and warm settling on top of his lap. He glances down.

There is a grey and white kitten sitting on him, peering up at him with inquisitive eyes. He grins down at him, delighted, and scoops him up without hesitation.

"Hey there little guy,” Jihoon coos. “When did you get a cat?"

Seungcheol smiles. "I found him in the alleyway behind my building last week, rifling around in the garbage cans."

“ _Aww_. What’s his name?” Jihoon asks.

The kitten reaches out a tiny paw and bats at his face with it, and he can't help giggling a little. He’s so busy cooing at him, he doesn’t realise Seungcheol’s silence is strained and purposeful, until he looks up to find Seungcheol biting his lip anxiously.

Jihoon’s brow furrows. “ _Cheol_? What’s his name?” he repeats insistently.

Seungcheol gives him a weird, sideways little smile, and ducks his head bashfully. “I called him— _Jihoon_.”

Jihoon gapes at him for a long, startled moment before murmuring, "You're serious."

Seungcheol puffs out an anxious breath. “Yup. But I call him _Hoonie_ for short.” he says slowly, cringing.

Jihoon’s heart gives a funny giddy leap. He shivers and fights back a weird twisty smile, a half-formed laugh.

“ _Seungcheol_.” He intones.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says, faintly, embarrassed and helpless, reading Jihoon’s expression all wrong, “But when I found him he had a chicken drumstick in his mouth almost twice his size, and that immediately reminded me of you”  

Jihoon huffs a surprised laugh. "Oh yeah, well maybe I should go out and get a dog—name him after you, huh?” He says, without even thinking about it.

Seungcheol freezes and looks up, his blush fading a little in surprise. “Really? I’d love that! Can I come over and play with it?”

Jihoon laughs and puts the kitten back down on his lap. "You have a hell of a namesake, Hoonie," he tells him, petting him. The kitten pushes his head up against Jihoon’s hand and purrs, long and low, curling up.

"I think he likes me.” Jihoon says, leaning into Seungcheol’s side now.

"Well of course.” Seungcheol replies, scooting over and bumping shoulders with him. “Like I said, you’re very cuddle-able."

They smile at each other, the purring and the faint hum of the television the only sound in the room.

By the time the cheap, awful wine is gone, they've slumped so far into each other's space that it's like a contest to see who can get closest to centre of the couch.

They share space easily—always have—and even though this mutual proximity is nothing but wine and laziness, Jihoon finds it comforting. There's something pleasant in the way Seungcheol drapes an arm across the back of the couch to steady himself, then doesn't move it when Jihoon's head lolls against his shoulder. 

Seungcheol gets up to refill their glasses, presumably, but when Jihoon looks up he’s standing in front of the coffee table, phone in hand—taking pictures.

Jihoon holds a hand over his face. “Hey— _don’t_.” He whines, his protest is noticeably slurred.

“Just a few— _please_.” Seungcheol pleads, eyes soft. “You’re Jihoon—holding _Kitten_ Jihoon. It’s a momentous occasion. I just want to capture the moment.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes but indulges him, cradling the tiny thing in his hands, posing him for various shots.

They move to the beer in Seungcheol’s fridge and watch the rest of the movie in a companionable kind of silence, Kitten! Hoonie migrating back and forth between them every few minutes.

Jihoon doesn't remember falling asleep, but he wakes on the couch. His head pounds and his tongue feels fuzzy, but otherwise he's more comfortable than he should be. Probably because Seungcheol managed to pry his shoes off and lay him lengthwise across the cushions before disappearing.

There are two aspirin sitting on the coffee table beside a tall glass of water, illuminated by a sliver of sunlight that sneaks between imperfectly drawn curtains.

On second reflection, he’s also got a pillow and a blanket and is wearing a pair of too-big sweatpants. He should be a little embarrassed that Seungcheol probably had to help him change into them, but he can’t summon the energy for humiliation right now.

Besides, Seungcheol’s always been thoughtful like that.

It's not until he’s back at his own apartment that afternoon, that it occurs to Jihoon that he'd gone to Seungcheol. He'd been dumped, and rather than call anyone else, or sulk with anyone else, he'd gone to him.

He doesn’t know why.

He hadn't even  _thought_  about it really, but it had been the right decision.

He feels better, more grounded than he had before. He feels better and more grounded than he's felt in _ages_ , really.

* * *

 

One weekend, a bunch of them decide to go to the beach.

Jihoon has a splitting headache after drinking hard during a spectacularly awful blind date and can't find his sunglasses, but he wants to be a good sport, so he goes along with it.

Too hungover to frolic properly, he sits on the sand and watches Soonyoung attempting to push Chan into the water while Seungcheol and Mingyu work the barbeque and toss a beer back and forth.

They've been out for maybe an hour when Seungcheol plops down in the sand next to him, coating his arm with it. Jihoon sticks his tongue out at him and brushes it off, and Seungcheol affects a completely innocent expression that Jihoon knows means he'll end up with more on him eventually.

“So, how was your date last night?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon snorts. “I was wasted half way through it—so _yeah_ , not so good.” He says, trying to keep his tone light but failing entirely.

Seungcheol winces, like he regrets bringing it up. “I’m sorry.”

 _“Don’t be_.” Jihoon puts on his best teasing smirk, donning a nonchalance he doesn't feel. “I could tell from the first hello he wasn’t my type. Not to mention he was twenty minutes late and insisted on _ordering_ for me.”

Seungcheol grins, holding a hand to his face to cover it. “I can imagine how well you liked that.”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s kind of when I started drinking. Remind me not to let anyone set me up on a blind date again.”

“Will do.” Seungcheol chuckles, picking up a sea shell and flicking it towards the water. Jihoon follows the line of it upward, which forces him to look at the sun, and wince.

Seungcheol observes him over the rim of his sunglasses. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a hangover.” Jihoon waves a hand in the sun’s direction. “Couldn’t find my sunglasses.”

"Here," Seungcheol offers, pulling his own glasses off. “Take mine.”

Jihoon agrees at once, taking the aviators he offers with a smile. Seungcheol laughs at him when he puts them on, because they're much too big for his face and he probably looks ridiculous.

"Oh, shut up," Jihoon says good-naturedly, staring out across the water more comfortably now that his eyes are shielded.

When he glances sideways, he finds Seungcheol watching him with an unfamiliar intensity, though the expression blanks quickly when he catches Jihoon looking back.

"What?" Jihoon asks, wondering if he’s imagining the hint of pink rising to Seungcheol's cheeks.

“Nothing, just those glasses on your tiny, precious face.” He snickers, patting his pocket and fishing out his phone. "I need a picture of this— _smile_.” He says.  

That's he last thing Jihoon feels like doing, but Seungcheol's willingly handed over his glasses and surrendering his dignity for a few photographs feels like a fair trade.

So Jihoon does smile, wide and a little mocking.

* * *

 

When Jeonghan gets a long-awaited job promotion, a whole group of them go out to a bar to celebrate. There’s Jihoon, Jeonghan and his boyfriend Jisoo, Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Seungcheol, who tags along an hour later because of work.

Jeonghan seems to have started the celebratory champagne _before_ he left the house, so the revelry ends a lot sooner than Jihoon was expecting.

Jeonghan is a handsy drunk, leaning onto Jisoo and slurring badly-formed come-ons, and it's the first—but not the last—time Jihoon notices how much Jisoo lets his guard down once Jeonghan is a little impaired.

"Yes, yes," Jisoo's saying, probably more fondly than he means to, "I promise, I did understand what you were asking when you told me to go hunting for your trouser snake. You _really_ don't need to elaborate."

" _Okay_ —I think it’s time we called it a night." Seungkwan tells everyone in a stage whisper.

“But we jus got ‘ere.” Jeonghan slurs happily, nudging Jisoo's neck. Jisoo doesn't even bother making a half-hearted attempt to push him off, just laughs and buries his nose in Jeonghan’s hair for a very brief second.

"No, Boo’s right. Come on, you’re wasted," Jisoo says, "no one wants to see you like this, you're embarrassing yourself."

"Mmmm," Jeonghan says. "Fine, but we're finishing this later."

Jisoo laughs and pushes him forward out of the booth, leading him to the door. Seungkwan and Soonyoung linger for an hour longer, and then head out too, and Jihoon and Seungcheol get bored of the bar quickly.

They stop in a liquor store up the street, and Jihoon buys a bottle of Vodka just to prove that he's old enough to do so. Seungcheol laughs indulgently and they pass it between them on a park bench, talking about work and Game of Thrones and where to buy the best fried chicken in town.

"Hey," Seungcheol says eventually, "whatever happened to that guy you started seeing? Baekhyun?"

“Oh, _that_.” Jihoon sighs and waves a hand. "That ended two weeks ago," he admits.

Seungcheol blinks at him in genuine surprise, “Really? How come? You never said anything.”

“Cause it wasn’t a big deal. I’m not upset.” Jihoon interjects quickly. “It wasn’t anything serious. We were just messing around and I realised if it went on too long I’d get comfortable with that kind of relationship and— _honestly_ , it’s not what I want. So I’m a free agent again,” Jihoon says, smiling at Seungcheol and poking his shoulder. “If you have any hot, single friends—send them my way.”

Seungcheol scratches the bridge of his nose, casual. “Not to belabour a point, but you _did_ ask me not to let anyone set you up on a blind date.”

"Urgh, I almost forgot." Jihoon laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe I’ll take a break from dating all together for a while.”

“Right.” Seungcheol agrees, brow creasing faintly. When he looks away, Jihoon doesn't think he's imagining the sad twist of his friend’s lip. Or the equally faint hitch of disappointment in broad shoulders.

Frowning himself, Jihoon takes a swig from the paper bag housing the vodka. It burns going down his throat, and he coughs a little, giving Seungcheol a glare that suggests that he will smack him if he comments.

Seungcheol just smiles and pries the bottle from him, holding it out of Jihoon’s reach.

He has probably had enough anyway, all things considered.

"I haven’t had much luck on the dating scene either," Seungcheol admits. "I always manage to find the egomaniacs, or the nerds with no sense of self-worth, if it's any comfort."

" _Great_ comfort," Jihoon deadpans, and Seungcheol grins. "To being unlucky in love, then."

"I'll drink to that," Seungcheol raises the bottle, and they each take a sip to it.

Seungcheol takes a photo of him a little while later, while he’s distracted taking a sip. A little vodka spills out as he laughs and Seungcheol catches his arm before he tips backwards off the bench. They order Chinese food at a ridiculous hour and end up sharing Jihoon's double bed, because forcing a big guy like Seungcheol to sleep on his two-seater couch would be a crime.

* * *

 

Jihoon almost misses the mailman as he heads out to work one day. He juggles his letters and opens a cream coloured envelope to find a wedding invitation from two of his closest friends, Jisoo and Jeonghan.

There’s a grin on his face until his gaze drops to the bottom of the invitation: _Lee Jihoon plus guest._

He can think of absolutely nobody to take with him in that moment, and he doubts that’s going to change in the next few months either.

Yeah, he’s still young, and yeah he’s pretty career driven right now. But it’s nice to have someone to come home to sometimes, and just thinking about all his friends getting married and settling down makes him feel… _sigh_.

He’s happy for them, undoubtedly, but the other myriad of feeling the invitation provokes leaves him distracted the entire morning. In fact, he’s so unproductive he ends up messaging Seungcheol and suggesting they meet up for lunch, then slips out of work early and goes to sit on the grass in front of the building.

He's never been the type of person to be jealous over someone else's happiness. He's had friends like that, people who complained bitterly about being single, who scowled at couples kissing in public, but it seems like a lot of energy to Jihoon, to let loneliness drive you to hate.

In any case, what Jisoo and Jeonghan have isn't something he's ever wanted; the happiness part is great, certainly, but it's not the kind of love he's always looked for.

Jihoon wants something quieter, something that feels less grand and fated, something calm and slow and soft in the morning light. He wants to grow into something, to wrap himself up in it and carry it with him, warm without be smothering. He's not sure if it's possible with the last few guys he’s been with. But he's patient, patient and practical and grounded in his own sense of self, and he figures he's allowed to want whatever he wants.

So it's not jealousy, not exactly. It's just—well, it's just that some days he remembers his ex saying ‘ _You know what your problem is? You never let anyone in’_ , and he wonders if it's true. Wonders if he'll ever find somebody who sees him for _him_.

He's sitting there, playing at a blade of grass, when Seungcheol strolls up. "Hey. What’s up?"

"Nothing, just— _thinking_." Jihoon says, glancing up. "Did you get Jisoo and Jeonghan’s wedding invitation?"

"Ah," Seungcheol says, giving him a knowing look. "Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?"

" _No_ ," Jihoon says too quickly, colouring. Seungcheol sighs and sits down next to him, dropping the car keys he’d been holding down in the grass.

"Sometimes I forget how young you are," he says, which, really, is the whole problem. Jihoon grimaces.

"Funny, since you’re only two years older than me." Jihoon snaps. He makes an apologetic noise and he looks up at him, not knowing what to expect. Seungcheol’s eyes are soft, though, and when he speaks his voice is very kind.

"Yeah, but I’m not the one living my life on some restricted schedule." Seungcheol says gently. "You’re pushing yourself to have things you’re not ready for yet. Comparing what you have to what other people have is always going to make you feel like crap, especially when it comes to relationships."  

"I know that. I just— _I don't know._ I feel like I'm _missing_ something. Like I should be _trying_ harder, or dropping my expectations. You know?" Jihoon complains, trusting Seungcheol to follow what he's not saying.

"I do," Seungcheol says, studying him with his dark brilliantly alive gaze, intent. "But that's my point—you're young yet, Jihoon. You've plenty of time to figure it out. There’s somebody out there— _waiting_ for you when you’re ready."

From anyone else, it would sound like a platitude. Jeonghan would say it in that condescending, fatherly way he has, and Seungkwan would make him feel like an idiot by accident, and Soonyoung would try to distract him from the issue by jumping into something else entirely. But this is Seungcheol, who is surefooted and solid, who thinks before he speaks, who knows Jihoon probably better than anyone. Jihoon knows that he means it.

"If you say so," Jihoon sighs. Seungcheol smiles at him, warm and inviting, and the weight of it settles over Jihoon and calms him implicitly.

They sit staring out over the grass at the sun-slanted sky, until Seungcheol shifts beside him and leans forward to pluck a daisy out of the grass.

There’s rows upon rows of the tiny flowers on the grassy embankment, some of which are already bent under the weight of Jihoon’s knee. Seungcheol picks one of the survivors, sniffs it to see if it smells, then very carefully slides the flower behind Jihoon's ear, sweeping a lock of hair out of the way.  

"Seriously?” Jihoon huffs, reaching up to flick it off.  

Seungcheol’s hand closes round Jihoon’s wrist, gently, and guides it down to his lap. "Don't move it,” He says, before pulling out his phone and tapping open the camera, “It'll make for an interesting composition. Hold still."

"You're so weird," Jihoon informs him, but he keeps still, lets Seungcheol shift him a little and fuck with the zoom until he's got exactly the set-up he wants.

“Perfect.” Seungcheol says, smiling down at the picture he’s taken. He tucks his phone back into his pocket and reaches up, but instead of removing the flower, he repositions it. He’s slow to take his hand back, but when he does it’s to tuck a lock of hair behind Jihoon’s ear.

“There. You look like a beautiful, _fairy prince.”_ He grins.

Jihoon think he should probably be insulted by that comment, but there's fondness and mischief in Seungcheol's eyes, and he can't resist smiling.

A moment's silence stretches for what feels like an eon, but eventually Seungcheol stands, offering Jihoon a hand. "I’ll need to get back to work soon, let’s get some lunch first.” He says.

Jihoon takes his hand and Seungcheol hauls him up, grinning.

"Thanks," Jihoon says. "And thanks for not being a dick. About my sulking I mean. I appreciate it."

"I am more than happy to refrain from being a dick anytime," Seungcheol says. His tone is solemn, but his eyes are sparkling. "C’mon, let me buy you lunch.” He adds, clapping Jihoon on the back.

Jihoon agrees, and he follows Seungcheol down the slope towards the car.

 

* * *

 

Jihoon meets Seungcheol for breakfast one lazy Sunday at the local diner; the one which Seungcheol swears has the best pancakes.

Even in a relative nowhere like their neighbourhood, Seungcheol will hunt up the best diners available. Seungcheol's not usually picky—his appetite is too insatiable to be a diva about food—but he appreciates a good meal more than anyone else Jihoon knows.

“These pancakes are amazing–” Jihoon pauses mid chew, looking up from his plate to find Seungcheol has set down his cutlery and is—of course—taking photos on his phone.

Jihoon can’t help but roll his eyes, “Seungcheol, _please_ —do you have to do that while I’m eating?”

“Of course, I need to be the first to document ‘Tiny dude eats his weight in pancakes.” Seungcheol laughs, but it's awfully fond.

Jihoon splutters, and tries to get up the energy to be indignant. He holds his fork up, waving it purposefully in Seungcheol’s direction. “I have a fork and I will happily use it for its unintended purpose.” He warns.

“Okay, okay—putting it away now.” Seungcheol says but continues to take photographs anyway.

“Hey!” Jihoon huffs after a minute has passed and Seungcheol still hasn’t set his phone down.

“Sorry—but,” Seungcheol reaches up with his free hand and rubs away a dollop of syrup on Jihoon’s nose, scratches it for good measure, gives it a fond pinch. “You got syrup on your nose. It was—too fucking adorable to resist.”

Jihoon flushes and glances out the window, embarrassed.

When Seungcheol excuses himself to use the restroom, he makes the rookie mistake of leaving his phone on the table next to his plate.

Jihoon smiles deviously to himself and reaches across the table, swiping it open before it locks.

He’s planning on deleting all evidence of his love of pancakes and inability to eat without dropping syrup everywhere, but that mission is derailed when he glances at the screen.

Seungcheol’s wallpaper picture makes him _cringe_.

It’s a picture of Jihoon from their day at the beach. There’s sand in his hair and the sunglasses look fucking stupid, but they're reflective enough that you can see Seungcheol in them, grinning and holding the phone.

Jihoon’s going to have to change that wallpaper now too.

He estimates that he’s got a few minutes before Seungcheol comes back from the bathroom, so he quickly opens the gallery and starts flipping through the photographs there.

There are the most recent photographs he’s itching to delete: him with maple syrup caught on the edge of his mouth, his fork in the air as he threatens Seungcheol, him cross eyed, frowning at a dollop of syrup on his nose. But as he scrolls down, there’s also a few shots of him just _looking_ out the diner window in soft focus.

Huh.

Further back Seungcheol’s taken a number of ridiculous artistic shots, things that probably seemed brilliant in the moment—a power line listing to the left, faded graffiti on a wall, a penny caught between the sidewalk cracks.

Laughing at Seungcheol’s dorkiness, Jihoon keeps snooping.

And then…well, then there’s just _more_ of him in the photos Seungcheol has taken.

There’s a few shots of Jihoon wearing every one of Seungcheol’s bucket hats at once, when Seungcheol tried to cheer him after a breakup by letting him mock his clothes.

There’s pictures of Jihoon peering at a fortune cookie critically, when they’d ordered Chinese at 3am in the morning once.

One of Jihoon sitting on Seungcheol’s couch laughing hysterically at something on the TV, then another of him hiding behind a cushion. Jihoon had gone camera-shy then and he looks embarrassed and irritated in most of the photos, excepting the few where Seungcheol had coaxed a laugh and a smile.

There’s pictures here Jihoon didn’t even _know_ Seungcheol had taken at all, angles he doesn’t remember.

A picture of him sprawled out on Seungcheol’s couch, head tilted back, examining the ceiling as he listens to whatever story Seungcheol’s sharing. One of him that night in the park, perched on the bench; he’s bathed in the golden glow of a streetlamp, laughing and brandishing a bottle of vodka bottle.

A few of him on the beach with sand on his bare arms, and, inexplicably, on his cheek. Some of Jihoon in napping on a towel wearing Seungcheol’s sunglasses, which he'd gone ahead and stolen that day.

Jihoon on the couch with Seungcheol’s kitten, Hoonie, fully grown now, his tail wound around Jihoon’s hand.

Then there are two dozen of him with a daisy tucked behind his ear, a blush across the bridge of his nose. And if Jihoon’s being honest with himself, he thinks it gives him just the faintest hint of otherworldliness.

_‘You look like a beautiful, fairy prince.’_

Jihoon feels his breath catch in his throat and scrolls on.

It’s not that Jihoon particularly enjoys looking at himself, of course, it’s the knowledge that this is Seungcheol’s eye on the world, this is Seungcheol’s lens, with Jihoon filling the frame.

There are some that are cropped oddly, because Seungcheol is enamoured of unusual constructions, emphasizing the little things. Some of just Jihoon’s eyes creased in the corners, Jihoon’s hands, wrapped around a mug, his mouth, open in laughter, or just his dimples peeking through.

There are some where he's staring right at Seungcheol over the phone, his eyes fond and his face serious.

The waitress comes over to top up his coffee, and Jihoon blinks, trying to tear himself away.

When he minimizes the gallery, Seungcheol’s wallpaper background is there, and he looks at it,  _really_  looks at it, for maybe the first time. Jihoon’s wearing Seungcheol’s sunglasses, and Seungcheol’s smiling face is reflected in them.

But Seungcheol’s not looking at the camera—he’s looking at _Jihoon_ , warm and tender and  _patient_ , like he sees all of him, like he didn't want to look at anything else.

Jihoon realises, with a sudden jolt, that's how Seungcheol  _always_  looks at him.

He can summon more than a dozen memories to mind: a sharp glimmer in Seungcheol's eye; a moment's proximity held a heartbeat too long; Seungcheol's hand at the small of his back; Seungcheol's smile bright and warm whenever he catches Jihoon looking his way. Jihoon has caught Seungcheol staring at him more than once, with an expression that ignites low-simmering heat beneath his skin.

Jihoon feels it now: the way they click together, all too easily, the way it’s not work at all to be with Seungcheol, to smile at him and tease each other and be quiet together. 

He can't believe he's never realised it before.

The thought washes over him, steady and calming like a warm breeze, that this could be his own kind of love story.

“Hey,”

Jihoon jerks and nearly drops the phone, but it’s only the waitress again, folding the bill neatly in half and slipping it under a plate.

“Can I get you anything else honey?”

Jihoon smiles, and swipes the phone shut, leaning over to place in front of Seungcheol’s seat.  

“No, thank you. I’ve got everything I want.”

**Author's Note:**

> What the hell did I just write?  
> No smut.   
> What has the world come to.   
> Also, this prompt was super hard to add smut to. So you'll have to just excuse the extreme cheesiness.   
> Basically the message I was trying to get across was, Seungcheol is silently suffering, patiently waiting for Jihoon to get his shit together. But a Cheol POV would have been hella angsty to write, so I wrote it from a Jihoon POV instead, cause I figured the discovery would be sweeter? Meh.   
> Hope it's readable.   
> Feedback appreciated!


End file.
